Stories, food, and the wisdom that feed a nation

I went looking for tomatoes. Oh, and avocadoes.
What I found was a masterclass in resilience, food wisdom, and human connection, all tucked into a bustling corner of Trinidad, where colour, noise, and memory collide under canvas tents.
This wasn’t just my first Trinidadian market experience. It was a map of community and culture that illustrated how a nation eats, what they eat, and who makes that possible.
I arrived with a reusable market bag. I left with stories, beautiful produce, pepper sauce and bush medicine (we’ll get to that, I promise).

A Market in Full Colour

From the moment I arrived, the market was buzzing with activity. The people, moving like dancers through narrow aisles of cassava, okra, and sweet mangoes. The air smelled of earth, ripe fruit and sunshine. I moved from one stall to the next, my bag filled quickly.

It was a canvas of colour. With every shade of green, brown, yellow and red.
Green broad seim stacked high. Tomatoes like red baubles. Yellow plantains stretched long beside their stubbier cousins. And then a unique sight, purple long beans. I’d never seen them before.

But here’s what I discovered: not everything sold at the market is local.
While most of the produce is grown and sourced locally, some items are imported. I’ll admit it was a strange sight to see apples, grapes and pears amongst the beautiful local bounty. Imported salted cod and smoked herring displayed a few aisles away from the locally caught (and still alive) mangrove crabs and river conch. So, if you’re trying to live by the “Grow Local, Eat Local” ethos, just ask your vendor. Vendors are often proud to tell you exactly where something comes from, or even who grew it.

It’s important to remember that it’s not just what’s in your bag. It’s who you’re supporting when you fill it.

What You Said (Instagram Poll Results)

I ran two polls on the day I visited the market and the majority of poll participants voted for 7am or earlier as the preferred time to hit the market stalls. I suppose “the early bird, catches the worm” holds true for most people, especially if the worm in this case is a big, ripe juicy mango.

Now, I love that so many of you are out here evaluating fruit like seasoned pros, but please, for the love of the produce: Don’t be squeezing up the people thing!
Quite frankly, it’s a little rude (to the fruit I mean), and it damages the product. A gentle touch will suffice.
No need to be grabbing and pressing like you’re a master masseuse. Respect the fruit. Respect the vendor.

Ask a Vendor: Market Knowledge You Can’t Get from Google

How to tell if a Mango is Ripe?

Mango Vendor: Watch the colour, and the shape. The mango gets fuller (larger) when it’s ripe. Observe the stem, which pulls away. The colour always goes brighter (the hue changes).

What is Gingee / Jingi and how do you prepare it?

Vernon the Vendor: They call this Gingee, Jingee, baseball bat (Chinese okra). They should have some flexibility, that means they’re still young. You want it young to cook, and not with too much seeds. Peel it, cut it up and cook it. Now you can curry it with some saltfish or dry shrimp or cook it “sada” meaning white or non-curry.

How do you know if a Pepper is Hot?

Pepper Vendor: Taste it. A lot of people come asking me that, and I always say If you really want to know, just taste it.

How can you identify Scorpion Peppers?

Pepper Vendor: The skin is usually bumpy, and the end has a tail.

How to eat Chilibibi?

Christeen the Vendor: Eat with a spoon, a little at a time. Make sure you have water nearby because you could choke (it can be drying).

Market Stories: The People Behind the Produce

You can’t tell the story of a market without honouring the people behind the stalls. These are the names and faces that I encountered, and the stories they told.

Tanty Darlin’
Has been “selling market” for 57 years. She knows every customer by name, every stall by history. Her corner is a shrine to tradition: dried herbs, ground spices, ghee, molasses, coconut oil, seamoss, and an entire shelf of tonics, tinctures, and, well… bush medicine. Remember earlier when I said we’d get to the part about bush medicine?
Well, you’ve arrived.

One particular concoction caught my eye: an mysterious bottle with a mixture known simply as Zebapique. After some gentle prying, I found out it was leaves from the Zebapique plant soaked in water. That’s it. No sugar, no honey, no disguise. Used to cure colds, coughs, fevers. And as I learned, the longer it sits, the more potent it becomes. I was told it tastes of bitterness, pure and intentional.

I suppose one could say say the taste is as bitter as a Trini bank teller’s face when you ask them for $200 USD.

Christeen

She makes her own pepper sauce, pickles, and preserves.
Her husband, an amputee, still works in his own capacity. She has two daughters – one is a tech graduate, the other studies risk management at university. Her stall is a tribute to resourcefulness and showcases her talent for homemade products. She proudly showed off her variety of anchars (pickles) and we had a whole chat about how to make chalta (elephant apple) anchar.

Vernon

Just came back from visiting his brother in Brampton, Ontario. He told me how much he enjoyed his Canadian vacation, and I told him about the many roti shops and Trinis that call the city home. Then, without skipping a beat, he enthusiastically demonstrated how to peel and prepare his sweet broad seim (hyacinth beans).

Why a visit to a Local Market matters

It isn’t just a weekend errand. It’s a living, breathing example of what food can be.
Seasonal. Sustainable. Story-rich. Local. In a globalized world where supermarket aisles overflow with impersonal imports, and convenience often trumps connection, farmers markets like this remind us where real nourishment begins.
They’re not just places of commerce, they’re classrooms of resilience, grounds for community, and sanctuaries of trusted local knowledge.

And whether you’re in Trinidad or Toronto, Sangre Grande or Scarborough, your local market holds the key to eating fresh, eating meaningfully, and eating in a way that supports the hands that grow your food.

Support the system that feeds your soul as much as your stomach.

Because #GrowLocalEatLocal isn’t a trend…it’s a lifestyle, a statement, and a quiet act of revolution.
It’s how we build food security, honour culture, and work towards national food independence.

And that’s all I have to say about that.